


Dumpster Diving

by Beth Harker (Beth_Harker)



Category: Newsies (1992)
Genre: Bullying, Canon Era, David-Jacobs-would, Gen, M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Post canon, can be read as gen or javid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-23
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2019-05-27 08:28:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15020654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beth_Harker/pseuds/Beth%20Harker
Summary: Jack helps David fend off some school bullies, with uncertain consequences.





	Dumpster Diving

“Hey! Hey Davey! Why are you in such a hurry?”

David tensed at the voice, which rang out a few feet behind him. He’d seen the boys across the way, but he'd turned his head and walked faster to keep them from noticing him. Now David froze, feet and arms refusing to obey his commands. Later he would tell himself that it was because he wasn’t going to give anyone the pleasure of watching him run, but in his heart he played the coward, because seeing them and hearing them speak still tied him in knots, even with the endless winding streets of New York open in every direction.

Slowly, David turned around. If he could just keep his movements deliberate, then maybe it wouldn't be so bad that he couldn’t flee the scene. Maybe it could be a matter of self-respect. He wasn’t afraid of them. He wasn't! He just _hated_ them. There was a crucial difference.

“What do you want?” David he glared at the boys before him. 

Henry, Victor, and Alexander were dressed in black and gray school uniforms, the same that David had put on each morning, up until a few months ago, when his father's accident had forced him to drop out. They regarded him as if deeply amused.

“There’s no need to be so defensive,” sneered Victor, who was the tallest of the three, with a gaping mouth and hair that his mother kept immaculately well clipped.

“We just want to buy some papers from our favorite newsie,” said Henry, reaching into his pocket. His lips twitched at the word _newsie_ , like it was a great joke.

Alexander didn’t say anything, but David noted with some satisfaction the acne that had blossomed on his chin and forehead since David had last seen him. It was Alexander that David locked eyes with first, though a moment later he moved his gaze over to Victor, who had always been the leader of this little group.

“Don’t waste your money,” David said, without enough force.

“What was that, Jacobs? You’ll have to speak up if you want to tell us the day’s headlines. If they’re any good, maybe I’ll buy a couple. Not quite Homer, you know, but the boys at school like a little light reading now and then,” said Victor.

“I told you not to waste your money,” David said, more loudly this time. Victor had failed his classics exam last year, a fact which David knew, because he'd noticed the other boy cheating off of him, and written the most lewd and ridiculous Latin he could think of on the paper, instead of the answers. They'd both gotten in trouble for that, but it’d been worth it. 

“They’re above your reading level,” David continued. “You won’t be able to understand them.”

Alexander barked out a disbelieving laugh. David held onto his papers tighter.

“Money spent in charity is never wasted,” said Henry. David would have wondered why he didn’t even bother to argue his ability to read, if not for the look on the boy’s face. His smile was malicious, and he spoke in a lilting, almost sing-song manner. He made a grab for the papers, but David shook him off. “Come on now, Davey, relax. I’m going to pay for them. I’ll give you a nice shiny nickel, how do you like that?”

“Look, he’s overwhelmed with gratitude,” said Victor.

The three of them were walking towards David now, forming a half circle around him. David backed up. He couldn’t help it. If he didn’t, they’d be right up in his face. There was a dumpster behind him, and David pressed up against it, the metal cool against his back in the late autumn air, the smell of rotten food surrounding him along with his tormentors, making his stomach churn just as much as they did.

“It’s more money than he’s ever seen in his life. We’ve rendered him speechless,” Alexander said. His voice was stupid. Everything about Alexander was stupid, from his stupid acne to the stupid apes he called friends, to the stupid way that he made as if to punch David in the stomach and then stopped just short of doing it. “I didn’t even hit you,” Alexander laughed.

David straightened out. He’d doubled over in anticipation. His face was hot, breath choked. Victor and Henry were saying something again about how he’d better hurry up and give them their papers before they took their money elsewhere and showed him what they thought of street urchins like him, but David didn’t even really hear them. Alexander’s next shove was real, as was Henry’s. Victor grabbed onto David’s papers.

“Stop,” David ordered, using the stack of papers to shove Victor back. Victor stumbled a few steps, and then started cackling. David blinked, confused. Even Henry and Alexander stopped what they were doing to stare at their friend momentarily. Then, all at once, Victor made a lunge for the papers.

David reacted faster than he could think. He turned around and flung the papers, the entire pile of them, into the dumpster. His forehead clanged against putrid metal as Victor knocked into him. There was a burst of light in front of David’s eyes. This had to be what people meant when they talked about seeing stars. He could feel the other boy backing away from him. As soon as David was able, he spun around to face them. He forced himself to glare, even as his eyes tried to cross, three enemies wavering and becoming six, insofar as he could see them at all. He reached up to rub the sore spot on his head, then stopped, letting his arm drop heavily.

“Say, David, you alright?” Victor asked. He was a little paler. He toed the ground and looked behind him, like maybe a teacher would jump out of the shadows and box him on the ear. Intimidation was a fun schoolyard game, but anything that caused visible injury was against the rules. Was Victor really that dumb, that he didn’t realize they were out in the real world, where kids soaked each other all the time? 

David watched him, half hunched over as he stared. And stared.

“There,” David said. “You want them? climb in and get them.” He swallowed hard, then huffed out a breath. There was maybe a split second where he was just exhausted. Then the anger crystallized, and his voice became low with menace. “Do it.”

Victor looked at his friends, and then back at David.

“Let’s go. He’s _fine_ ,” Alexander whispered.

“Sure he is.” Henry rolled his eyes, with an appraising look at David, that seemed equal parts pity and disgust. It made David glad that Jack and Les were running up from _behind_ them, so that Jack couldn’t see anybody looking at David like that, couldn't learn that he was the first boy David’s age to treat him as anything other than human garbage. After all, if Jack knew, maybe he'd change his mind. 

David ducked out of the way, as Victor came hurtling in the direction of the dumpster.

“You heard him,” Jack was saying. “Now get your asses in there and give him back his papes.”

The rest of it happened quickly. Fights always did. Henry tried to run away, but Les yelled at Jack to stop him, and he did, with a swift punch in the face that left the other boy dazed and on the ground. Alexander _did_ manage to disappear. Victor continued to lean against the dumpster, wide-eyed and trembling.

“Get in,” David said again, with a glance from Jack to Victor. His voice didn’t come out nearly as forcefully as it had when he’d had nothing to back his words up with, but Victor did as he was told. Henry swore, and started to struggle back to his feet. He grabbed onto Jack’s legs. David couldn’t tell whether he was trying to hurt Jack or trying to pull himself upright, but either way Jack’s knee connected quickly with the boy’s chin, and he was down on the ground again, cradling his face and groaning like a fool.

“Don’t keep kicking him,” David said, “Nobody’s done it before. He doesn’t know how to be kicked.”

Jack glanced up. David knew the expression on Jack’s face. It meant that Jack had heard him, and was considering whether or not to do the exact opposite of what he’d been told. David winced as something warm trickled down into his left eye, wiping roughly at whatever it was. Jack yanked Henry upwards by his shoulders, and shoved him into the trash behind Victor. There was blood on David’s hand. The blood only made his own words more ridiculous, because somebody who had _no idea_ how to be kicked, and would probably burst out crying if Jack tried it long enough, had made him bleed. David shoved his hands in his pockets. He could hear the boys rummaging in the trash, and Les yelling at them to hurry up, toy sword clanging impatiently against the metal every now and again. David, who had relaxed for an instant when Jack first appeared, became tenser as the air rang out with the sounds of wood reverberating against metal, muscles clenching until they hurt as much as David’s pride.

Papers started coming out of the dumpster, their ink running, and the white parts changed to yellow, brown, and grey. Jack made a face at them.

“Whaddayouthink?” Jack asked. He clapped his hand down on David’s shoulder, and David shuddered involuntarily. “They damaged the merchandise. Think we oughta make ‘em pay for it? I think we oughta make these bastards pay for it.”

And Jack was back at the dumpster again without waiting for David to answer, shouting for them to knock it off, get out, and empty their pockets. Jack pressed a wad of cash into David’s hand as they ran away, and Les waved his sword frantically in the air, calling out that if they ever messed with his brother again they’d be sorry, _so there_.

“Dave! You’re bleeding!”

David’s fist tightened around the money. One dollar of it was paper money, instead of the coins that he was used to carrying. The crumpled bill was damp and unfamiliar against his palm. Jack grabbed David by the chin before he could protest, pinching the gash on his forehead with his other hand, pressing the sides of it together.

David jerked away.

“Don’t touch it,” he said. Jack reached out again, then let his hand drop to the side. For a moment his eyes went wider, vulnerable in a way that only Jack could be, even if David usually only ever caught it in snatches here and there. He took a step back. The fight was over, but David wanted to hit somebody. He wanted to find someone and knock them to the ground. His heart was pounding hard in his chest.

“Your hands are dirty. You’re making it worse,” David explained, and that was almost as good as hitting somebody. It was nearly the same.

“And you’re making it a lot better, just standing there doin’ nothing about it.”

“Well at least…” David shut his mouth. He locked eyes with his friend, but didn’t move.

“At least _what_ , Dave? You got something to say, then say it,” Jack continued to hold his gaze, eyes challenging. David took a shaky breath.

“I don’t have anything to say.”

“Fine.”

There was a moment where David wasn’t sure if Jack was going to hit him, hug him, or walk away. He looked ready to do all three things at once. Les, who was standing behind Jack, kept gesturing wildly and mouthing at David to hurry up and apologize.

“Here,” Jack said. He untied his bandana and handed it over to David, who reached out to take it automatically. His fingers were shaking when they brushed up against Jack’s. “You ain’t gonna be able to see anything if the blood keeps dripping into your eye.”

David glanced down at the bit of red cloth. It was worn, like Jack had owned it for about a thousand years and never washed it, baptized with stale sweat and who knew what else. David raised his arm slowly, and pressed it to his forehead. Jack let out a relieved breath.

“Hey, let’s get you back to your ma,” Jack said. “I bet she’ll have lunch for us if we turn up.”

David knew that the bit about lunch was added as an afterthought, but he supposed he appreciated it anyway.

“I can handle this,” David said, quick and shaky. “I just need to wash out the cut. Not because of your hand. Just because… because I do.”

“Okay Dave,” Jack said. He slung his arm over David, and pulled him out towards the street that would lead them home.

****

“What happened?”

There had been a point, when Jack had first started hanging around David, where that had been Mrs. Jacobs’ typical greeting whenever they got home. It had been a few months, though, and Esther seemed to have gotten used to her boys turning up disheveled, late, or half asleep at the end of the day. What she wasn’t used to was having David show up in the middle of the day bleeding, with Les behind him, red faced and hopping all over the place with excitement.

“It’s fine, I can handle it,” David insisted for the second time that day, slipping away when his ma moved to take the bandana. She didn’t try anything after that, which sort of surprised Jack, but then again he figured she’d had almost sixteen and a half years to get used to David and his moods. Jack hadn’t, though, so he guessed he had an excuse to follow him around the house if he felt like it, which he did, because he didn’t want to be the one to have to explain what had gone on. 

Besides, he barely even knew. He’d just happened to see David shouting at some assholes in nice clothes, and taught them a lesson on his behalf.

David went over to the sink, and started splashing water on his face, rinsing out the cut carefully.

“Is it still bleeding?” He asked Jack, when he noticed that he was standing there.

“Yeah, kind of.”

“Great. Perfect,” David said, then disappeared into another room. Jack could hear him rummaging around in a drawer or something. He picked up his bandana, which David had left on the counter, and tied it back around his neck. David showed up again with a square of burlap sticking to his forehead, cut from a flour sack judging by the pattern. It looked pretty funny, but Jack kept himself from laughing by biting the inside of his cheek. Jack thought David ought to be grateful for that, but knew that he wouldn’t be, so he just didn’t say anything.

“You’re not going to wear that, are you?” David asked, gesturing to the the bandanna.

“I already am, ain’t I?”

David made a face.

“Look,” Jack said, “It’s not like your blood’s the worst thing’s ever been on it.”

“I’m not even going to ask.”

Jack was right about Esther having lunch for them. He’d never once turned up at the Jacobs household and not been fed, and even though she couldn’t have been expecting them, she had a bowl of pickles and a pot of weak coffee. Jack didn’t like coffee, but he drank it anyway, mostly on account of Esther apologizing for not having a hot meal ready. Les explained what happened as they ate, or at least that some boys had pushed David and Jack had made them stop.

David took the money Jack had given him out of his pocket abruptly, and put it down on the table.

“It was Victor, Henry, and Alexander from school. Jack didn’t do anything wrong, but their parents will probably come by and say we stole this from them. They got kind of hurt. I should stick around to talk to them.”

Jack looked from Esther to David. Neither of them seemed pleased. Esther’s mouth had formed a thin line, and David was clearly trying to maintain eye contact with her, when he really just wanted the situation to be over.

“Tell me the story from the beginning,” Esther said finally.

Jack leaned on his elbows as David spoke. He didn’t say much, because he didn’t want anybody to think about him much until the story was through. David was forcibly calm as he narrated the day’s events, though he flushed when he mentioned throwing his papers away. Jack just didn’t understand that. David said that he’d done it because he’d known Victor was about to, which was almost worse. It was one thing to soak a kid, but it was another to throw his stuff away.

“Next time those jerks try something like that, hit ‘em in the face with the papes and see how they likes it,” Jack burst out, slamming his fist against the table.

“That’s enough Jack,” Esther said. “What happened after that?”

David explained in a few words that Jack had showed up at that point, seen that he was hurt and that his papers were in the trash, and reacted. He emphasized that Jack couldn’t have known what had really happened, or that these boys wouldn’t really do anything worse. There were street kids who _would_ do something worse if you got caught in a fight with them, and that’s what David said Jack had been seeing.

It wasn’t precisely true. Jack had seen a bunch of wimps who needed a lesson that their mommies and idiot teachers weren’t giving them. He thought it best not to say that now, when David was arguing his case.

Esther just shook her head and clicked her teeth when the story was finished.

“Well,” she said, and for a few minutes that was all she said. She stood up. “Jack, dear, let me wrap up some more pickles for you. Then you should go. If those people are going to make trouble for us, it would be better for you if you weren’t here.”

“I could get more of the guys to come over,” Jack blurted out. “Look, maybe I made a mistake, but if they’s gonna come over with reinforcements on account of me…” A scene had popped into Jack’s head, of a bunch of people in nice clothes, who didn’t know much about fighting, coming over with chains and clubs to beat up the Jacobs, who knew even less. Even David, who should have figured it out by now, hadn’t really, and Jack didn’t want him to keep having to defend himself in unfair fights before he even learned what to do in a fair one.

“They are!” said Les, hopping down from his chair. “And their dads are as stupid as they are. If Jack brings the other newsies over here they won’t ever come near us or David again!”

Esther silenced Les with a look.

“They aren’t going to hurt us,” David clarified, since he seemed to know what Jack was getting at. “They’re going to talk us to death, and threaten to call the police, because their offspring will have told them that you and I beat them up and stole from them for the fun of it…”

“Yeah, well we _didn’t_!” Jack threw up his arms in frustration.

“I know,” Esther soothed. “Even so, it would be better if you weren’t here.”

Esther’s look was significant, and Jack was starting to grasp what she meant. She pressed the pickles, which she’d wrapped up, into his hands.

Jack was ready to argue, but he wasn’t sure _what_ to argue – that he wasn’t going to leave them alone to get into trouble, maybe, or that he wasn’t going to leave them alone to get in trouble _and_ take all their food on top of everything else.

David stood up. “Come on,” he said, pulling Jack by the shoulder. “Come out and talk to me for a second.”

Jack must’ve resisted, because David pulled a little harder.

“Look,” David said, “It’s not like I’m going to be able to push you off the fire escape if you don’t do what I tell you, so you might as well just come. No, Les, not you.”

After that Jack let himself be led to the window, and climbed out on his own. He turned and leaned against the railing to watch David as he joined him.

David shut the window, and turned to Jack.

“They aren’t going to be able to do anything to me,” David said. “You know that, right?”

Jack rolled his eyes, “Then why can’t I be there, huh?”

“What do you think, Jack? They won’t believe anything you say. And it’s not your fault this time, since they don’t know you, but the fact stands that they won’t.”

“I betcha anything they’ll believe me if I said I was the one beating on those kids and not you.”

David scanned Jack, taking in his appearance. “Okay,” he said. “Yeah, that they’ll believe. But that’s not what you want them to believe, because they’ll also believe you’re a menace who beats up innocent children out of sick enjoyment, and nothing I or my parents say will convince them otherwise. It’d be bad for you.”

Jack wanted to protest.

“But…” the words stuck to the back of his throat. They were trying to protect him, the same way he’d tried to protect David, and that was the reason they were in trouble in the first place.

David took hold of Jack’s wrists.

“It will be fine,” He said again. His voice lowered at his next words, “They want to make me feel like scum. That’s it. After they feel like they’ve successfully convinced my parents and I that we’re the lowest forms of life on this earth, and we know our place, they’ll be satisfied and go.”

This caused Jack to find his words again, “You ain’t scum,” he said. “And your family ain’t either.” The Jacobs were just about the best people he knew.

“I know that,” David said quietly.

“But you’re just gonna let ‘em tell you…”

David shrugged. It was enough to make Jack want to throw his arms up in frustration, or to stick around and show those kids and their stinking parents just what scum was.

“You should get going,” David said firmly. “Now.”

Jack looked at David, still unsure of what he wanted to do.

“Look,” David said. “I’ll come by the lodging house tonight when it’s over, just to fill you in on everything. Ok?”

Jack nodded slowly. David didn’t wait for any further answer. He climbed back into his house through the window, closing it decisively behind him.


End file.
